


the calm of the storm

by dreamsdark



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (yes i am being a clown), Gen, M/M, No Spoilers, Post Timeskip, because the whole fic is based off a scene from it, pre-release, unless you haven't watched the e3 trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsdark/pseuds/dreamsdark
Summary: A helping hand, reached out to someone in need.





	the calm of the storm

For a long while, the only sounds around them are the buzzing of indiscriminate insects and the crackling of the tiny fire Claude had built.

Saying it’s awkward would be an understatement. Every few minutes, Dimitri would look around nervously, end up startled by an animal in the distance or even his own movements, and then try to act completely unbothered.

Pitiful was not a word Claude liked, but it’s what comes to mind unbidden. Maybe the silence is getting to him. “I got good eyes, y’know.” He points to his quiver. “I can keep watch.”

Dimitri nearly falls off the rock he was sitting on. In hindsight, breaking the silence of over an hour so suddenly might not have been the best idea. He recovers quickly enough, but something feels...off.

Claude unsubtly moves closer to him. Dimitri watches, but doesn’t otherwise respond. Keeping his voice quiet, Claude asks, “Do you want water? It’s pretty dark but I can probably hunt something, too.” Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t doing either of them any favors. They had to rest after their mad dash away from where Dimitri had been imprisoned, so it’d be a good time to try and figure out what happened to Faerghus or himself—or so Claude had thought, but whatever _had_ happened didn’t leave the prince in the best state for an interrogation. So he’ll wait—nothing to be gained from rushing.

“No,” Dimitri answers, voice rough from disuse. He turns away just enough that Claude can only see the side of his face with the eyepatch.

Obviously he needs water. Claude forces his irritation into a tired smile. It’s only then he notices Dimitri’s hands are shaking, very slightly but with no sign of stopping. Is he ignoring it, or does he not even realize? Neither option sounds good. 

An idea comes to him just then, and he starts rummaging through his pack. This prison was located in what was practically the middle of nowhere for such an important prisoner—easier to sneak into, but an absolute bastard to actually find before said sneaking could commence. So Claude had brought supplies to last a few days. A few strips of salted meat, walnuts, dried fruit, a small pot that he takes out and sets beside him, and—there, his personal indulgence. He can feel eyes on him as he searches, but when he checks Dimitri’s gaze is completely unfocused, looking right through him.

With some water, Claude sets the pot to boil over the fire. There's only one empty canteen, but he could give it up for now.

“Hey,” he nudges Dimitri’s shoulder, “How d’you feel about tea?”

“It’s...alright,” is the lukewarm answer he gets.

Claude extends a hand. Still looking unsure, Dimitri takes the tea from him. It starts yet another awkward silence, where Dimitri just stares at it, and Claude wonders if he should remind Dimitri that tea requires drinking it to be enjoyed. Does he think he poisoned it?

Or maybe it’s his own hands he doesn’t trust, Claude realizes, as Dimitri nearly drops the canteen with how badly his hands tremble.

Claude takes his hand, holding it still. Dimitri looks up, blinking owlishly. To take the tea from him, he has to carefully pry Dimitri’s fingers off, who doesn’t seem interested in helping or resisting.

“Almost forgot!” he exclaims with obviously faked cheer. “What flavor do you like?”

Dimitri’s confusion is obvious. “I...don’t know.” But he seems to still be thinking—he must have had a preference, but it was easy to forget those things.

“Well, good, because I don’t have anything else.” Claude laughs. “Hope you like peach.” He brings the canteen up to Dimitri’s lips.

A protest forms in Dimitri’s eyes, but it dies without being vocalized. He takes a sip, his expression changing into almost childlike wonder. “It’s good.”

 _It’s just tea._ To be so affected...Claude really does not want to think what Dimitri’s usual diet had been reduced to.

At least it achieves the intended effect of calming him down, enough for him to finally stop shaking and take the canteen from him. 

Maybe now would be a good time to ask—“You know how my friends are,” It doesn’t even sound like a question, but it’s the longest sentence Dimitri had spoken to him so far.

“Your friends?” Claude wasn’t too familiar with them personally, but he remembered them well—Dimitri had never tried to hide his close relationships, even when they strained and snapped and everyone bore witness to the messy fallout. Claude had thought it awfully naive—a prince wearing his heart on his sleeve was only setting himself up to fall.

...When did he become so cold? Claude shakes his head, disturbed at his own dark turn of thoughts. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of their current whereabouts.” There was no reason to bother with rumors just yet.

Dimitri frowns. “Then why...” He stops to take another sip. “Why did you come for me?”

“You _are_ royalty, y'know.“

“Why _you?_ Aren’t you...their leader?”

 _Some leader I am._ “Figured it’d be good to see a familiar face. And I think Hilda’s got my place covered for now.” Sometimes it was useful being an alliance instead of a kingdom—if he died, someone would take his place easily enough.

“Hilda...Goneril?” He fails to hide his shock. “Not that I, I—“

Claude breaks into laughter. “I know! I still can’t believe it.” So Dimitri had kept some of his old awkwardness...even seeing the faintest traces of it was a relief. “You up for some food now?”

Somewhat surprisingly, Dimitri shakes his head. He stares into the fire, seemingly entranced, knuckles white from clenching his fists. Exactly what he was thinking about was a mystery—the past? The war? How even though he’d taken every precaution he’d still— 

Claude kicks some rocks over the fire, extinguishing it. It wasn’t doing him or Dimitri any favors to be thinking about things they couldn’t change. “You should get some rest.”

Dimitri raises his head slowly to meet his eyes. “You...should too.”

To worry about him now of all times—Claude almost wants to cry. “I will,” he lies. 

**Author's Note:**

> meant to post this earlier but i at least have to post this before the game is actually out and everything here is wrong
> 
> (not like people don't already have the game but shh)
> 
> i am just TOO HYPED for fe3h  
> someone's gonna tell me that scene isn't even a prison but it's too late i already wrote this whole thing  
> (just procrastinated on editing...oops)  
> so things ended up really vague because. i don't know what actually happens,
> 
> i meant for this to be platonic mostly but i don't know if i actually succeeded...i hope people like them either way  
> i am just very worried for everyone please be okay
> 
> oh and happy birthday claude! how could i forget
> 
> my twitter ([@endsream](https://twitter.com/endsream))


End file.
